


Grief is not as heavy as guilt

by drwhogirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s12e20 Twigs and Twine and Tasha Banes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 05:42:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13070319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drwhogirl/pseuds/drwhogirl
Summary: “Grief is not as heavy as guilt, but it takes more away from you.”- Veronica Roth





	Grief is not as heavy as guilt

Ketch would never admit to being somewhat relieved when Mary rejected his offer. The interrogation of the shifter had thrown him more than a little off kilter and made him feel… not vulnerable, he’d never admit to feeling vulnerable, just uncertain. Though the fact it made him feel anything at this stage was testament to just how much it shook him up.

Deciding not to go to his room, he stepped outside instead. Pulling a crumpled cigarette packet from his pocket before he’d even crossed the threshold.

Mary hadn’t noticed his hesitation, that was something he supposed. Hadn’t noticed that the shifter’s form made his hand shake ever so slightly as he finished it off. Even if she had noticed she probably decided he was just narcissistic, would rather inflict pain on others than someone who looked like himself. Which in part was true he supposed. But she hadn’t seen what he’d seen. The scar just below the hairline from a bicycle accident, the star shaped birthmark on the right hand, the subtly curled hair. The tiny details that to anyone else would have meant nothing, but to Ketch just screamed Alexander.

That wasn’t the worst of it though. If it had been Alexander at 15 he might have been able to cope. Alexander the last time he saw him was so ingrained in his memory that he was almost desensitized to it by now, but the fact that the shifter became an older version. A now version. Alexander as he would have been had he survived Kendricks. That’s what seriously threw him off. To his dying day, he’d never admit to the tears that formed at the sudden realisation that that was the only time he’d ever get to see his brother grown up.

He’d never felt more alone than at that moment as his thoughts began to wander. Just weeks previously had he felt the need to pull out the cigarette packet from his pocket, he wouldn’t have been alone. Mick wouldn’t have allowed it. Ketch wouldn’t have told him anything, wouldn’t have wanted to talk about it at all. But still Mick would have noticed the warning sign and come out and stood with him, been a reassuring presence by his side until he felt able to go back in. But now, like everything and everyone else Ketch cared about, Mick was gone. Ketch couldn’t help but wonder if that’s why he was asked to kill him. If it had been a test. He’d killed the person he loved most before, maybe they wanted to see if he still could.

That realisation hit him like a runaway freight train. He’d never even let himself consider that he might have loved Mick. Didn’t allow himself the luxury. Now though… now he didn’t think he could live with himself with what he’d done.

With the cigarette almost finished he threw it to the floor and put it out with the heel of his boot. As he went back inside he was working on autopilot. Collecting his Men of Letters ID (he wouldn’t be needing it again anyway) and the rest of the ingredients he took his car and headed out.

About a mile from the base, his phone started ringing with a call from Doctor Hess. Probably wanting to know where he was going, but he just turned it off and threw it into the glovebox. He didn’t know where he was going so it was another two hours before he found the perfect place, a set of crossroads in a dirt track.

He’d barely even completed the ritual when a demon appeared. “Well, this is a surprise. The Men of Letters’ most heartless killer wants to make a deal, what could Arthur Ketch possibly want from little old me?” the demon taunted, earning a glare from the man in question.

“I want you to resurrect Mick and my brother.”

“I could… but it’s gonna cost you.”

“Yes, I know. I die in 10 years’ time if I make a deal.”

“Normally yes, but you’re quite a catch Mr Ketch and normally we don’t allow more than one favour per deal meaning either you have to choose, or you get 5 years.”

“5 years.” Ketch didn’t even need to think about it. There was no choice. No way he could choose between Mick and his brother.

Once the deal was sealed, the demon disappeared and in it’s place were Mick and Alex.

“Ketch? W-“ Mick didn’t even manage to finish his sentence as Ketch grabbed him by the shirt and kissed him. Mick froze for a moment before pushing him off. “No! You killed me, you don’t get to kiss me!” Mick didn’t even let himself think about the fact that he’d always wanted that to happen, or that Ketch looked genuinely heartbroken by Mick’s exclamation. He hadn’t even tried to hide it as he was wont to do.

“Arthur?” It was then that Mick noticed they weren’t alone. Alexander didn’t seem to have any of the same hangups as Mick as, on receiving a confirmatory nod, the boy was wrapped in his brother’s arms almost immediately.

Mick didn’t allow himself to think about the fact that the twins now looked more like father and son and ignored the part of his brain that asked what that made him.

Allowing the brothers to have their moment, he began looking around at their surroundings. It was only then that he realised where they were. “Please tell me you didn’t.” He said, turning back to Ketch. The only reply he received was a shrug. Ketch wasn’t going to lie to Mick but he didn’t exactly want to admit to what he’d done either (particularly not given the look he was currently getting from Mick at the sheer thought.

Mick couldn’t help feeling a little conflicted at that realisation. On the one hand he felt angry and betrayed at the fact that Ketch had shot him in the head, but at the same time he understood that it had been an act of self-preservation and apparently Ketch had not only managed to get past that but was willing to risk eternal damnation to get Mick back.

“How long do you have?”

“Five years. I know you probably hate me and you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to…” Ketch wasn’t really sure where he was going with that train of thought, but Mick understood what he was saying. He didn’t have to stay but it would be appreciated.

“I’ll stay. After all, someone has to make sure you don’t get yourself killed before that 5 years is up.” Mick couldn’t help the smile on his face when his statement not only made Ketch smile but made Alexander laugh.

“Sounds like something he’d do.” Alexander said with a grin.

Once the laughter died down again, Ketch brought out the big question. “What do we do now? I haven’t really thought beyond this.” He said, gesturing to the two of them.

“We could go to Sam and Dean, they might be willing to help.” Mick suggested.

“Yeah, help you maybe. No offence mate but they hate me.” Despite Ketch’s objections, nobody had a better plan so they headed to the bunker. Sam was significantly more welcoming than Dean but eventually they had both Winchesters convinced to let them stay. The plan had been to stay until the Men of Letter left and it was safe to move elsewhere but after a few weeks, they were all so used to the new family dynamic there was no question of them going anywhere. Dean eventually warmed to Ketch so they started going out on hunts together whilst Sam and Mick ran intelligence from the bunker. Alexander worked as an apprentice, continuing his studies from when he was at Kendricks whilst learning anything and everything else the adults were willing to teach him.

It took about a year for Mick to fully move past the whole being shot thing and another before either of them initiated anything after that first kiss at the crossroads. As the end of the fourth year since the resurrection loomed, the tension began to grow until finally Ketch just upped and left in the middle of the night.

Ketch wasn’t completely sure what his plan was but he couldn’t stay in the bunker anymore. He knew what was happening would be hard enough for Mick. With Alexander enrolled at a local school, he and Mick became his parents (for all intents and purposes) and it would be hard enough for all of them to deal with the questions without actually finding him torn to pieces in the kitchen or something.

With that in mind he took his bike and rode. The where didn’t matter, he just wanted to get away.

Finally, when he found a nice secluded spot, he stopped. Pulling the trust pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket, he stopped to light one. He hadn’t needed a smoke since getting Mick and his brother back and guessed it was somewhat poetic that it was the same packet he’d had on that fateful night.

As he heard the howling in the distance he closed his eyes and waited for his fate.

 

When Mick awoke the next morning, he was very aware of how cold the space next to him was. Opening his eyes he found his suspicions confirmed that Ketch wasn’t there. He thought for a moment that he’d just gone to make breakfast or something, until he noticed the calendar and his blood ran cold. The deal. The deal had come due.

Heading straight for the library, he grabbed the nearest laptop (which happened to be Sam’s) and activated the tracking software in Ketch’s phone.

He spotted a whiteboard pen left on the war room table and left a note, telling the others where he was going before heading out to the garage.

As he approached the coordinates the app had given, he saw the bike. Stopping the car he decided to walk the rest of the way. The first thing he noticed was the somewhat conspicuous lack of blood. The second was that whilst Ketch’s clothes were torn to… well… torn to hell, his skin was clear of any damage. The final thing he noticed was the man was still breathing.

“Arthur? You with me?” He asked, kneeling down next to him and checking his pulse.

“Mick? W’you doing in hell?” Ketch slurred sleepily.

“I’m not in hell, and apparently neither are you. What happened to your tattoo?” Mick had only noticed when he took Ketch’s wrist to take his pulse that the tattoo that should have been on Ketch’s hand was missing.

That caused Ketch to wake up fully and sit up, staring at Mick for a moment. “What? You mean… You mean it worked?”

“What worked?” Mick asked suspiciously, wondering what Ketch had done this time.

“Rowena’s spell. It worked.” The grin on Ketch’s face was contagious.

“What do you mean it worked?”

“Well she had this spell that stops you from dying but I didn’t think it would work against a demon deal so I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

“It must have allowed your soul to enter hell before bringing it back and voiding the deal.” Mick realised. It was at that moment that it his Mick that this was real, Ketch was alive. For the first time in five years, everything would be alright. After pulling the other man into a gladly returned kiss, Mick bundled Ketch into the car. Later Ketch would be annoyed at losing his bike when it would turn out to have been stolen after they went back to find it but for now it remained forgotten. Neither man wanting to take their eyes of the other, they remained in a comfortable silence all the way home. Home, now that sounded nice. Neither of them could pinpoint exactly when the bunker had become their home but as they entered the bunker hand in hand they were never more grateful for the family they had created, all of which would never have been possible if it hadn’t been for a shifter and a demon.

**Author's Note:**

> This was intended to only be a couple of hundred words but got away from me a little


End file.
